A Hero in the Dark: 2nd Edition

Chapter 7: Hotter than on TV

"I don't understand what's going on," she says, her confusion coming in a hushed panic. "Who are they? Who are you? Why're you here?" I can practically feel her nervousness simmer throughout the darkroom. "None of this makes any sense."

I watch her for a minute, trying to figure out what to say. I bite my inner cheek before she presses again. "I don't know how much I can say," I stutter, breathing out a sigh of anxiety. "Do you know John Smith? You know who he is?"

She looks taken aback by that, then more inquiries come: How do you know who John is? Are you one of his kind too? Are those people outside them? I hold up my hands to stop her, then shake my head. "I'm not like him. I'm just someone that knows of him," I explain. "But yes, I'm pretty sure those people are the ones hunting him, and they might come after us if they think we know where he is, so we need to get out of here."

I wasn't expecting it, but at that, the pretty slim girl actually nods. I edge to the door. One of them is in the foyer, cannon swinging at the hip. He looks just like the one that could've killed me yesterday. But thankfully, it's just him, and he's facing the other way.

"C'mon," I whisper, and tiptoeing like two mice would scurry over a ledge, we edge around, knees bent, bodies hunkered low.

But as soon as we reach the office door, we hear a rev, like a distant car starting. I'm barely able to configure where it's coming from before Sarah pulls me down. "Watch out!"

A beam of jade shoots over my head into the locked office door, shattering the glass like it's nothing. I cry out. Suddenly, it smells a bit like burnt hair; it's a weird smell, almost bland. I can't even think to thank Sarah; all I can do is yell, "RUN!"

We make a beeline for the front doors until another ray strikes the window. "This way!" she shouts, taking my hand and pulling me to the back of the school. Another alien waits for us there too, pointing a similar unearthly weapon at us, and we freeze.

Sarah pulls me back down the adjacent hall. I glance over my shoulder to see if Pixie's still following—she is.

We run through and around the halls—back, left, left. My throat burns with a dryness I've never felt, and my legs feel ready to give. My hand's hot in Sarah's—even I can feel that. I wish I could stop; my legs are on fire! I'm so tired. I try to push myself, farther, faster, repeating in my mind: I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die. Somehow, it's enough to keep me going.

Sarah throws open a door and clicks the lock into place, and after I catch my breath a bit, I look around. Chalkboard. Desks. Fridges. Stoves. Home Economics room.

I turn to the blonde, who looks way too calm for this. Her breathing's not nearly as unsteady as mine. She's barely out of breath! And she looks expectant. "Thank you," I say through rugged outbreaths. "Thanks for saving my life."

She smiles a perfect, friendly smile. Despite the sprint we just ran, she still looks pretty, and even though there isn't much light, her blue eyes seem to sparkle as they stare into mine.

***

We've been hiding for who knows how long, huddled side by side, our shoulders touching and knees tucked into our chests, praying they don't find us.

I've been weighing our odds of escaping this school; I don't think it's very high. I mean, we're human! We're not trained for this type of thing; I'm certainly not. I've never had to run, or plan, to save my life in situations like these.

It feels like hours have passed even though it's probably only been thirty minutes. I dread the moment where we'll hear the jiggling of the doorknob of a Mogadorian trying to make his way in.

How am I supposed to find John Smith if I'm trapped in a school I don't know how to get out of? Everything feels like it's falling apart when nothing has begun. I consider digging through my backpack to see if there's anything we can use, but the thought of the zipper making as little as the faint zipping sound is enough to make me reconsider. I have no idea how good their hearing is, but I imagine it's good enough to hunt silent prey; the possibility shoots dread straight to my brain.

My breathing still hasn't returned to normal. It isn't hasty like it was, but it isn't slow either. My hands are shaky and full of nerves. My chest won't get any lighter and my stomach continues to swirl. "Are you going to be okay?" Sarah Hart asks in my ear.

I stand before I reply. "We can't just sit here. We can't just wait and hide until they find us. They'll find us eventually, and by then we'll be sitting ducks."

"What should we do?"

"We need to find a way out," I say. "They probably have all the exits guarded. Do you know if there's any other way to get out of the school?"

"I do," she says after a short pause. I sound desperate; I know I do, but right now, I really don't care. "There's a hatch in the gym. It's fairly hidden; they won't be able to see—" The doorknob jiggles, and my heart leaps from my chest to my throat.

I glance at her; she glances at me. It's as if everything starts to melt inside me. "Sarah? If you're in there, open the door."

Neither one of us moves. "John?" she asks, and at the sound of his name off her tongue, my nerves settle a bit.

"Yes," he answers, calm yet firm. "Please. I need you to open the door."

There's a pause, as neither of us see it fit to take the risk.

Then the lock on the door clicks, and it opens. There, standing on the threshold, is the boy from the tales. His blond hair is frantic like his expression. Blue eyes seem to glimmer even in the dim light, his hands like fists, but he releases them when he sees her. He rushes in and wraps Sarah in a hug. He doesn't look at me; he doesn't seem to care, and I stand idle, looking from the doorway to them while trying to think up something to say. I come up empty.

"I was so worried," he says, breaking a heavy awkward silence. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she assures him, kissing his cheek. I must admit, seeing them embrace like that makes me wish I was Sarah right now. He's hotter than on TV, but I push that observation down.

"John?" I spit, awkwardly, and they turn, and when his eyes meet mine, I find myself in a trance.

"Who're you?" Even his voice sounds like the wind. "Sorry, I don't recognize you."

"Emily," I blurt out. "I, um, I've been looking for you. I want to help."